“Where are you going, Daniel?”

“To Mr. Hoyt’s store.”

“I’ll go in with you. Where is ’Zekiel this morning?”

“I left him at work on the farm.”

“I suppose you will both be farmers when you grow up?”

“I don’t know,” answered Daniel, thoughtfully. “I don’t think I shall like it, but there isn’t anything else to do in Salisbury.”

“You might keep a store, and teach school like Master Hoyt.”

“Perhaps so. I should like it better than farming.”

Daniel was but eight years old, a boy of strik[Pg 9]
[Pg 10]ing appearance, with black hair and eyes, and a swarthy complexion. He was of slender frame, and his large dark eyes, deep set beneath an overhanging brow, gave a singular appearance to the thin face of the delicate looking boy.

He was a farmer’s son, and lived in a plain, old-fashioned house, shaded by fine elms, and separated from the broad, quiet street by a fence. It was situated in a valley, at the bend of the Merrimac, on both sides of which rose high hills, which the boy climbed many a time for the more extended view they commanded. From a high sheep-pasture on his father’s farm, through a wide opening in the hills, he could see on a clear day Brentney Mountain in Vermont, and in a different direction the snowy top of Mount Washington, far away to the northeast.

He entered the humble store with his companion.

Behind the counter stood Master Hoyt, a tall man, of stern aspect, which could strike terror into the hearts of delinquent scholars when in the winter they came to receive instruction from him.

“Good morning, Daniel,” said Master Hoyt, who was waiting upon a customer.

“Good morning, sir,” answered Daniel, respectfully.

“I hope you won’t forget what you learned at school last winter.”

“No, sir, I will try not to.”

“You mustn’t forget your reading and writing.”

“No, sir; I read whatever I can find, but I don’t like writing much.”

“You’ll never make much of a hand at writing, Daniel. Ezekiel writes far better than you. But you won’t need writing much when you’re following the plough.”

“I hope I shan’t have to do that, Master Hoyt.”

“Ay, you’re hardly strong enough, you may find something else to do in time. You may keep school like me—who knows?—but you’ll have to get some one else to set the copies,” and Master Hoyt laughed, as if he thought it a good joke.

Daniel listened gravely to the master’s prediction, but it seemed to him he should hardly care to be a teacher like Mr. Hoyt, for the latter, though he was a good reader, wrote an excellent hand, and had a slight knowledge of grammar, could carry his pupils no further. No pupil was likely to wonder that “one small head could carry all he knew.” Yet the boys respected him, and in his limited way he did them good.

Master Hoyt had by this time finished waiting upon his customer, and was at leisure to pay attention to his two young callers. He regarded them rather as pupils than as customers, for it is quite the custom in sparsely settled neighborhoods to “drop in” at the store for a chat.

Meanwhile Daniel’s roving eyes had been attracted by a cotton pocket-handkerchief, which appeared to have something printed upon it.

Master Hoyt noticed the direction of the boy’s gaze.

“I see you are looking at the handkerchief,” he said. “Would you like to see what is printed on it?”

“Yes, sir.”

The handkerchief was taken down and placed in the boy’s hands. It was quite customary in those days, when books and papers were comparatively rare and difficult to obtain, to combine literature with plain homely utility, by printing reading matter of some kind on cheap cotton handkerchiefs. Nowadays boys would probably object to such a custom, but the boy, Daniel who was fond of reading, was attracted.

“Is it a story?” he asked.

“No, Daniel; it is the Constitution of the United States—the government we live under.”

Daniel’s interest was excited. Of the government he knew something, but not much, and up to that moment he had not known that there was a constitution, and indeed he couldn’t tell what a constitution was, but he thought he would like to know.

“What is the price?” he asked.

“Twenty-five cents.”

Daniel felt in his pocket, and drew out a quarter of a dollar. It represented all his worldly wealth. It had not come to him all at once, but was the accumulation of pennies saved. He may have had other plans for spending it, but now when there was a chance of securing something to read he could not resist the temptation, so he passed over his precious coin, and the handkerchief became his.

“It’s a good purchase,” said Master Hoyt, approvingly. “Take it home, Daniel, and read it, and you’ll know something of the government we’re living under. I suppose you’ve heard your father talk of the days when he was a soldier, and fought against the British?”

“Yes, sir.”

“When soldiers were called for, Captain Webster was one of the first to answer the call. But of course you are too young to remember that time.”

“Yes, sir; but I have heard father talk about it.”

“Ay, ay; your father was selected to stand guard before General Washington’s headquarters on the night after Arnold’s treason. The general knew he could depend upon him.”

“Yes, sir; I am sure of that,” said the boy proudly, for he had a high reverence and respect for his soldier father, who on his side was devoted to the best interests of his sons, and was ready when the time came to make sacrifices for them such as would have made most fathers hesitate.

“Ah, those were dark days, Daniel. You are lucky to live in peaceful times, under a free government, but you must never forget how your father and other brave men fought to secure the blessings we now enjoy. Now General Washington is President, and we are no longer a subject colony, but we have a free and independent government.”

It is doubtful how far Daniel and his young companion understood the remarks of Master Hoyt, but doubtless a time came further on when the words recurred to him, and in the light of his father’s conversations, which from time to time he held with his neighbors, gave him a more adequate idea of the character of that government in which in after years he was to take so prominent a part.

“Are you going, Daniel?” asked William Hoyt, as the boys turned to leave his humble store.

“Yes, sir; father may want me at home.”

“Don’t forget your learning, my lad. You must be ready to take up your studies next winter. Soon you will know as much as I do.”

It was meant for an encouraging remark, but the prospect it held out was not one to dazzle the imagination even of a boy of eight, for as I have already said the good man’s acquirements were of the most limited character.

Daniel went home with his precious handkerchief snugly stowed away in his pocket. He was saving it till evening when he promised himself the pleasure of reading it.

After supper by the light of the open log fire he brought out his new possession.

“What have you there, my son?” asked his father.

“It is a handkerchief, father, with the Constitution of the United States printed on it.”

“Where did you get it?”

“At Master Hoyt’s store.”

“Dan spent all his money for it,” said Ezekiel.

“Well, well, he might have done worse. It will do him no harm to read the Constitution of his country,” said the father, gravely.

Thus assured of his father’s approval, the boy devoted himself to the reading of that famous document, of which in after years he was to become the staunch supporter and defender. For this boy was in his manhood to rank among the great men of the earth, and to leave a name and a fame to which his countrymen for centuries to come will point with just and patriotic pride.

This boy with slender form, swarthy face, and dark eyes, was Daniel Webster.